


Two by Two

by SanSanFanFan



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel and Demon wrestling, Aziraphale is awkward but learns, Crowley saves children, Cute kids and paternal Crowley, Gabriel is always a dick, How Crowley gets his new name, M/M, Noah's Ark, Shapeshifting lessons, The origin of the statue in Crowley's flat????, biblically inspired fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 23:36:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19711804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SanSanFanFan/pseuds/SanSanFanFan
Summary: Crowley tries to thwart Her ineffable bloody plan by saving some of the children during the flood. Aziraphale finds him and the stowaways. A 'fight' ensues but ends with Crowley helping Aziraphale on his next mission.Crawly is stifling a laugh as he braids one of the girl’s hair. “Like a pigeon, but white.” He offers.“Oh,” says the boy. “My uncle got shat on by a pigeon once.”“Well, I don’t need to do that,” Aziraphale says primly, “Just fly. Find land. And bring a sign of it back to Noah.”“Noah didn’t want us.” Says the girl standing in front of Crawly as he works on her hair. “Maybe you should shat on him too.”





	Two by Two

It should not have worked. It really should not have worked.

But it did because Ham was not the brightest or the most diligent of Noah’s lads. His father’s orders about the numbers of pairs, and the nature of clean and unclean animals and which was which, had gone in one ear and out the other some hours back. So, when one large black snake with a red belly, two pairs of very average looking snakes, and a whole bunch of much smaller colourful snakes, slithered their way up the gangplank he merely checked them off on a scroll, wished yet again that he could go sit in the shade, and ushered them in.

And then, come feeding time, his brother Shem saw only two pairs of snakes, before he moved on to the stoats who were already putting in the effort in to repopulate stoat-dom.

Crawly shifts shape first, making sure that the hiding place they’ve ‘found’ under the timbers of the hull of the ark is as safe as he intended it to be when he folded this tiny pocket of space for them. In the shadows, his eyes glow with determination as he looks over the jewel-coloured baby snakes he’s guided here before he nods and changes them back into their human forms. Some of the children are scared of what they’ve just been through and cling to each other, but most seem to have enjoyed playing at being snakes and some of them still hiss and flick their tongues at each other.

 _Stealing children, well, that’s got to be pretty high up on the old evil meter, right? Right?_ Crowley tries to reassure himself as a sneaky feeling of ‘having done the right thing’ grows in his belly. As a demon, he has the reverse of what a human would call their conscience. While humans might sicken for fear of having done the wrong thing, he wakes up in a sweat at night worried that he’s been doing _good_.

 _After all_ , he tells himself as one of the little girls hugs herself to his leg and accidentally wipes her snotty nose on his black robe, _the bloody ‘ineffable’ plan involved them all drowning with their parents, so I’ve damned near thwarted Her on high!_

It’s a comforting thought, and it gets him through the endless seeming long hours when the kids get cranky, sad, hungry, or have tantrums. The little extra-dimensional space he’s made still bobs about with _Her_ flood outside and he has to hold onto the idea of having thwarted Her like it’s his own little life raft when a few of them discover seasickness for the first time and vomit copiously. He uses demonic miracles to come up with solutions – well surely Her plan can only _really_ be truly thwarted if they are not only not fish food at the bottom of the new sea but also happy and healthy – solutions such as raw peppermint to chew, blankets to warm them, and nourishing meals for their little tummie- their stomachs, when they feel up to them again. He even returns to his snake form when the snotty one begs him to, asking him to be ‘Cro-lee’ again - getting his name entirely mangled up as she speaks around her thumb - and lets them all curl up amongst his silken scales.

But such strange but acceptable domesticity can only last so long when space is so tight and there is seemingly no end in sight to Her bloody flood.

“P-llllllllease!”

“No, Esther, I’ve already said no!”

“Croww-weeee, plllllease!” Another one chimes in, and he’s glad yet again that he’s soundproofed their little hideaway.

“Okay, okay! But six at a time, and we can only go to the other snakes and back!” He snaps, already regretting giving in, but they need to stretch their legs. Or their not-legs. Their tails??

Ham is sweeping up straw and muttering about hippo poo when the black snake leads his little troupe of red, green, yellow, and purple snakes past, all paired up in twos. He’s adopted Her ‘two by two by two… yadda yadda yadda’ system so they have a buddy to keep an eye on them as they slither across the lower decks. So, when one of them was missing by the time they met up with the two real snakes in their nest Crawly could have cursed the air blue.

He eventually finds her in the palm of a very confused looking angel, flicking her tongue and broadcasting ‘nyah nyah na nyah na’ in snake at him.

“Crawly!” Aziraphale snaps at him as he slithers into the angel’s view around the aardvarks’ pen. “What in the name of all that's hol- sorry- What is _this?!_ ”

“That’s Esther.” He says after regaining his two-legged shape and sauntering over, flicking his long hair back casually as though it’s all no big deal even though his heart is in his throat. Aziraphale might be the angel who gave away his sword to Adam and an expectant Eve, but he’s still an _angel_. One of _them_. “I’d be careful though, she has a terrible runny nose, even as a snake.”

“So I see. I think it would be better if you didn’t overhear this particular conversation little one!” He says and Esther the Snakelet vanishes from his hand with a brief tinkling noise.

“What did you do?! Where is she?!” Crawly roars and pushes the angel back against the bear crate, grabbing fistfuls of his woven robe. Furry shapes inside grumble in annoyance but they decide that there is actually a far worse beast outside currently threatening the white-haired human looking thing that smells of thunderstorms and honey, and they quieten down meekly.

“She’s just back with the others in the snake pen!” Aziraphale says, leaning back from the furious demon as his voice tightens. “But really, Crawly, what were you thinking?!”

Crawly narrows his serpent eyes and hisses, before beating a fist against the nearest timber, throwing sawdust and splinters into the air. “What do you think I am doing?! They’re children, angel! Children!”

Aziraphale nods, his face falling. “But, you’re going to get into so much trouble-”

“I’m a demon, what do I care?” He snarls and turns away, releasing him, “And for my side, stealing children away from their parents is probably an entirely new class of evil. Ruining her ineffable bloody plan… I’ll probably get a bloody promotion.”

“I’ll have to try to thwart you,” Aziraphale says in a quiet, despondent, voice. “I should try to thwart you.”

“Try it, angel,” Crawly says in a low and dangerous voice, moving closer again. “You’ll have to fight me! Because if you think I will let you do _anything_ to those children without a fight, then you are _very_ mistaken.”

Aziraphale quickly sizes up the demon. Physically Crawly is lean and angular, his corporation suggesting he might snap and break in an actual fight. But Aziraphale can also look at him on the metaphysical level, peering inside to see the tumult of demonic forces and anger inside of Crawly. It's like opening the door to a furnace, but the angel still knows he would win if they fought. His certainty comes from God’s blessing, a power that he believes no fallen angel can ever defeat.

“Fine.” He says coldly, “But I suggest we stick to the physical realm for this particular battle. We can’t risk obliterating the ark with the fallout from a fight in our true forms.”

Crawly blinks at him. “You’re serious?!”

“As I said, I have to try to thwart you. My side would expect no less.” He squares his shoulders and puts up his fists in a way that will centuries later inspire a Welshman to write a set of rules that the Marquess of Queensbury will endorse.

“Fine, angel. Bringeth it.” Crawly smiles toothily.

Easily avoided punches from the angel bring him close enough to the demon for him to grab him and for the fight to become a rather more scrabbling, messy affair with flailing elbow jabs, slappy hands, and barefooted kicks that completely miss. Old instincts do however kick in, and soon they are wrestling with their wings unfurled, Crawley even using the swish of his black feathers to push his opponent onto a back foot, a stumble that he takes advantage of to grab him in a hold from behind, twisting the angel’s arm and pushing his head down as he stands victorious behind him.

“Oh dear, I think you’ve defeated me!” Aziraphale says, breathing heavily even though he really doesn’t need to. A few silent seconds pass during which three thoughts pass through Crawly’s mind in quick succession. First, that his heart is beating very fast and that his breath is coming in short bursts as well, and neither is necessary or solely because of their ‘battle’. Second, that the angel is very, very, close to him, a warm shape against his front and pushing back against parts of him that he's not even given any thought to before. And third-

“You let me win!”

“Nonsense, I am a part of the angelic host! A warrior of the glory of heaven! I wielded the sword of Eden-”

“And gave it away,” Crawly breathes out, so close to the angel that whispers were more than enough. His wings curve a little more over the two of them as he releases a hand from holding Aziraphale down to reach his fingertips towards a long white feather nearby. Was the angel trembling against him?

“I fought my adversary and lost. Now I offer up my surrender.” The angel’s voice was like a melody in the darkness of the ark’s hold. “Do what thou wilt.”

“And what should I w-w-wilt with my defeated enemy?” Crawly stumbles over his words and his grammar, “Demons take no prisoners of war.”

“Nor do angels.” Aziraphale admitted, before sighing, “Do as you will... I am at your mercy.”

A shudder runs through Crawly, and he allows himself to run a hand along the full length of Aziraphale primary feathers. He almost gasps at their silken softness, and _does_ when the angel draws the wing in to grant him access to the very tips of them-

The darkened hold of the ark is suddenly alight with an ethereal glow that Crawly mistakes for the angel’s joy until he finds himself transported instantaneously into the bear’s pen by a small angelic miracle. The two pairs of bears inside make space for him, nearly sitting on each other in their eagerness to accommodate the strange beast that had just been wrestling with the shining one.

Why has the angel banished him?? And only to a nearby pen?!

He gets his answer straight away and shifts to his serpent form to hide deeper among the straw. The glow turns grey and purple as an angel with violet eyes arrives. _Bloody_ _Gabriel!_

“Be not afraid.” Gabriel intones in a dull, bored, voice to anyone who is about.

“It’s safe, all the humans are above decks at the moment,” Aziraphale says meekly, and Crawly is impressed by how he has quickly regained his composure. Although… his beautiful wings are still out.

“Ah, Aziraphale, good I’ve found you. I had thought you might be watching the flood with the rest of the host?”

“I was watching the embarkment and thought I’d pop on board to see if everything was going alright.”

“But, how could it not be? This is all Her will.” He looks down at Aziraphale as though he’s an idiot, and Crawly finds himself about to hiss for some reason.

“Of course, how could it not be!”

Gabriel’s smug superiority slips for a moment, and Crawly delights in the bugger’s sudden look of consternation. “Although, something unexpected has happened. It seems that the original plan needs some… assistance.”

“The rain bow?” Aziraphale asks, his fingers twisting together with his rope belt, his eyes downcast.

“Ah, no. Seems that the avian element of the plan is a little less reliable than we had thought. Noah sent out a raven to seek land and the blasted thing hasn’t returned!”

Crawly almost sniggers in his snake form, but then remembers the children. They need a new home, and soon.

“He wants to send a dove next.”

 _The idiot should send a crow, they’re much smarter_ , thinks Crawly vindictively.

“But upstairs is worried that another real bird will just disappear too.”

“Oh I see,” Aziraphale says in a bright but unsure voice. He obviously really doesn’t.

“I thought you’d understand,” Gabriel says curtly.

Before Aziraphale, or even Crawly, can react Gabriel shoves his palm against the angel’s chest and a bright burst of ethereal light blinds the demon, making Aziraphale yelp at the same time. The stern looking archangel pushes forward, and his hand seems to go _inside_ Aziraphale for a moment before he suddenly withdraws it and the angel is left staggering and groaning.

Crawly’s tail whips back and forth and he’s a moment from striking the archangel himself, when Gabriel curtly says goodbye and vanishes, taking most of the light in the hold away with him.

The snake slithers through the bars of the bear pen and noses gently at the angel’s ankle. Aziraphale is breathing heavily, his eyes tightly closed, clutching his chest, his wings hanging down, forlorn and shedding small feathers with shock.

“What did he do to you?!” Crawly says when he’s back in his two-legged form again. He sniffs about the angel using his occult senses and spots a change. It’s only a very small twist in the angel’s ethereal nature really. It’s an option that exists for all metaphysical creatures like them if they really want to expend the energy on it. But it looks like Gabriel has opened the door to it, and then wedged it open with a bit of his own power. Crowley sneers, “He didn’t even ask you if you were okay with-”

“It's fine. It's fine. I have a duty. I can do this.” Aziraphale babbles a bit. “Noah’s family need a dove. A _smart_ dove.”

Crawly shakes his head. “Your lot look down on taking animal shapes. They always have. They’ll treat you differently after this.”

“It's for the humans, not me. And I only have to find land for them. Then your children can have a place to be as well.” He smiles faintly at Crawly, who is still furious on his behalf.

“They could have bloody well asked you before they went about changing your nature!” Crawly huffs and gets one of Aziraphale’s brave smiles in return.

“Well, sooner I get it done, the better I suppose,” Aziraphale says fake cheerfully. “And its not like flying is strange for me.” He rubs his hands and focusses. Crawly watches though as the angel concentrates… and concentrates… and concentrates. Nothing happens.

“Oh, maybe this is harder than I thought. How do you do it?”

Crawly’s eyebrows rise up. “I just… do it. Like any miracle.” He shifts back and forth between man and serpent a few times and gives Aziraphale an encouraging nod. “Like that.”

“I see,” says Aziraphale, sounding very much like someone who doesn’t see at all.

Noises from the decks above interrupt shape-shifting lessons.

“Feeding time. Look, come back with me to our hiding place, and we can try and find out why it’s not working.”

Aziraphale panics a bit about making the decision, so Crawly helps him out.

“Look, if it helps, you can think of it as thwarting my evil plan of saving the children.”

“How do you work that one out?”

“Well, an angelic influence on them could change their behaviour for generations to come!”

Aziraphale frowns, “But by that reasoning, you saving them and turning them into snakes every so often might also have an effect on their descendants.”

“Oh, not at all. I’ll erase their memories later on, and there’ll be absolutely no consequences (1). Come on, angel!” Crawly says brightly and transports them to the hidden space with the click of his fingers.

***

“A dove? A kind of bird?” asks one of the children.

“Yes.”

“Is that like a chicken?”

“No little one, not much like a chicken.” Aziraphale has folded away his wings in the tight space of Crawly’s nest in depths of the hold, but he manifests a small feather to hand to the serious looking boy who is trying to understand what the strange white-haired friend of Crawly’s is talking about.

“White feathers?”

“Usually.” Aziraphale nods.

“But I had a chicken with white feathers!”

Crawly is stifling a laugh as he braids one of the girl’s hair. “Like a pigeon, but white.” He offers.

“Oh,” says the boy. “My uncle got shat on by a pigeon once.”

“Well, I don’t need to do that,” Aziraphale says primly, “Just fly. Find land. And bring a sign of it back to Noah.”

“Noah didn’t want us.” Says the girl standing in front of Crawly as he works on her hair. “Maybe you should shat on him too.”

Aziraphale loves all of God's creatures. But children… he never really _gets_ children. Maybe its because he’s inclined to see them as just adult humans on a smaller scale, whereas he should see them as a subspecies of imp with just a bit of cherub in them. It will take Aziraphale a long while to notice that all humans are really a blend of the demonic and the divine, but that’s a story for another day…

“I was a snake earlier.” Says another child brightly. “Why can’t you be a bird?”

They’ve been trying to get the angel to change for the past few hours with no success. Crawly doesn’t really have the language to explain how he shifts between forms, and Aziraphale is a tangle of angelic internalised prejudices and phobias about demons and what they can do. To the angels, there’s something a little ‘fallen’ about acting like a creature of the earth and even though they want him to be a dove, he’s really struggling to move beyond his nature and his nurture. Crowley would have thought that walking about like a human might have been a good first step, but the angel, it seems, hasn’t really yet experienced the fullness of human needs and desires. Food might be a way into that and he makes a mental note to suggest some experiments in that direction if they ever get off this boat…

“I don’t know why little Esther.” Aziraphale sighs. “And if I don’t manage it sometime soon, then we might be bobbing about on the water for a _lot_ longer.”

“Right.” Says Crawly. “Then, I’ll do it.”

“Crawly?!”

“Birds aren’t my thing, and Hell knows I don’t want to do Gabriel’s bidding” he looks sick at the thought, “but I’ve got the wings too. And I’ve been shifting for a millennia, shouldn’t be hard.”

Crawly finishes off the girl’s hair and slowly stands, trying to avoid bumping his head on the ceiling. He closes his serpent eyes and a moment later a bird stands where he did, stretching out its black wings to examine the colour of the feathers.

“Ah.” Says Aziraphale. “Oh dear.”

“It’s a crow!” Cheers Esther. “It’s Crowley!”

The bird bobs its head and changes back, a black look on his face. “Well, that’s not going to work. Noah’s already sent ravens, he wants a dove.”

“Crowley?” Esther says, pulling a bit on his robe. “Can you make me into a crow too?”

“Crawly, you are really going to have to do a good job on their memories when the time comes!” says the angel emphatically.

“No. Its _Crowley_!” says the girl, just as emphatically.

“Yeah… you know, maybe it is,” says Crawl- Crowley. “Never really liked Crawly.” He ruffles Esther’s hair with a smile.

“Crawl- Crowley, what am I going to do though?!” the angel asks plaintively.

The problem remains a problem for quite a few more days. A month passes with the angel trying regularly to shift and worrying incessantly about the host of heaven waiting on him to do it. Crowley helps as much as he can with suggestions about the technique while knowing deep down that its Aziraphale’s angelic prejudices that keep him from truly embracing such an earthly form.

Eventually, though, it’s the children who are the solution. Crowley watches the angel gets over his initial reticence to interact with them. Like most of his kind, he’s watched humans at a distance. But unlike most of his kind, he was also the first to choose to help humans. So, while he’s not great at looking after them at first, he does learn. He starts to remember to feed them, without Crowley having to prompt him. He soothes them back to sleep when they wake from nightmares about rain. He begins to braid hair and calm tears. And one day he manifests a square of material to help with blowing Esther’s nose, inventing the first handkerchief. He begins to be an earthly guardian as well as a heavenly one.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says softly one night, thirty-eight or so days into their sea voyage, as the children lie sleeping all over the two of them. “You like this lot don’t you? The kids?”

“Oh yes, yes I do.”

“Can you help them then? Can you help them all find a new land?”

Aziraphale’s eyes shine in the darkness, so full of determination that Crowley thinks in that moment he could even reshape the world to bring them land. But all he has to do is be a dove. Just a little white bird. A hope for a new land and a new beginning.

The next morning Noah is standing on the upper deck, peering out across the waves with his weathered hands tight on the railings, the wind blowing through his greying beard when a dove flutters in to land by him.

Artists will try to represent the dove in the centuries to come. Some will make it shine or show a column of heavenly light picking it out amidst the rain and the storms. Many will show it carrying the olive branch back to the ark.

None though will show the crow that flew alongside it on its very important mission.

**Author's Note:**

> (1) He was wrong. Anyone who has ever had a pet snake, a snake tattoo, or the inclination to hiss at annoyances is actually a descendent of Esther and the other snakelets.


End file.
